


Promises

by TigerDragon



Series: The Girls In Question [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Canon Compliant, F/F, Love Triangle, Makeup Sex, Quiet Sex, Role Reversal, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/TigerDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having talked Angel down from the terminal suntan (with, admittedly, a little help from the weather), Buffy finally makes it back home to find Faith waiting on her bed. Glaring.</p><p>They must teach Advanced Guilt Trips in every Boston public school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Tiger sez: No owny, no litigatey, plz. KTHX.
> 
> Set just after "Amends." For people who are paying attention, you'll notice we reference the very break-up-like scene at the end of "Revelations" here; this is intentional, and everything you see on screen is canon for this series. Yes, that means we're headed for some very dark waters before we see daylight again.
> 
> Fortunately, we're A) not as cruel as Joss and B) not there yet. On to the make-up sex!

By the time Buffy could let Angel out of her sight without a complete paranoid breakdown, the light not streaming through the windows of his house (you’d think he would have gone to greater lengths than simple curtains. She was going to talk to him about that) was at an angle indicating late afternoon. That meant that she’d left home, her mother, and Faith almost twenty-four hours ago.

Shit.

Of course she wasn’t sorry that she’d gone; keeping Angel alive (not dead? Um, animated?) was too important. But she was sorry about the abruptness, sorry about ditching Faith just moments after the other Slayer had accepted her olive branch. Sorry about missing Christmas. Sorry about...oh crap.

She hadn’t called. This was going to suck.

Contemplation of the suckage was interrupted by a stick in getting her window open, which she resolved with a good hard shove. Snow, in no small quantity, deposited itself in her hair and on the coat which had seemed slightly ridiculous when she went out in it and was probably now saving her from hypothermia. She climbed in the window, glaring at the traitorous roof as she went, and had her coat down around her waist when it penetrated that her trusty bedroom was, in fact, not actually empty and her trusty bed was not waiting for her with open arms.

Faith, sitting cross-legged on the bed in her stockings and blue button-up, continued her very successful impression of a very annoyed Buddha.

Buffy winced. So much for being able to gird herself for battle. She was completely un-girded.

“How did you know I’d be coming in the window?” she asked, trying to evit the inevitable.

Faith looked at her as if she might have heard a stupider question in her life, but couldn’t think of it off the top of her head. Instead of answering, she pointed toward the door and intoned a pretty excellent impression of the Ghost of Christmas Future in a talkative mood. “Downstairs.”

It was a little embarrassing how quickly Buffy found herself complying. She started to feel the slightest bit of sympathy for boys with angry girlfriends. Yeah, she’d known that a woman scorned was terrifying--just look at Anya’s resume--but she hadn’t understood that a woman ditched-without-phoning could be almost as bad. Tonight was _really_ going to suck.

The traditional how-could-you-be-so-inconsiderate-are-you-okay-and-what-was-that-about-anyway from her mother downstairs was actually sounding downright comforting by comparison. Gripping the banister at the top of the stairs, Buffy took a deep breath, held her head high, and marched down to face the music.

It wasn’t so bad, actually. More Sunnydale High Band than super-sized speakers playing Sousa. Apparently Christmas was good for something other than evil dead-people-wearing demons and semi-lame presents after all.

The silence that awaited her in her room almost made her wish for Rammstein.

The door closed softly behind her, Buffy leaned against it for support. Faith was still the Bodhisattva of Guilt, her stare pinning the blond in place.

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “Thank you for taking care of Mom.”

“You really freaked her out, B. Pretty sure that’s not what you’re supposed to do for your mom on Christmas.” Faith did not look inclined to be merciful. She looked, in fact, like she might be sizing Buffy up for a stake or a really good thrashing. “This is the part where you tell me all about the bunches of demons you spent all night fighting and the big pile of shit that fell on you that you spent the whole day getting out of. You know, the one that didn’t dirty up your coat and hair.”

“I spent half the night looking for Angel and the other half convincing him not to terminally enjoy the sunrise,” Buffy said, the quiet words tightening her up inside like a ratchet. “The day I spent making sure he wasn’t going to try again as soon as I left.” Slipping her jacket onto a hanger, she turned to Faith, gestures jabbing and intense when her voice couldn’t be. “I didn’t know if he was dangerous to anyone else. I didn’t know what was going on. I had to know that Mom was going to be okay. Having her home with you was the best option.”

Faith stiffened slightly, her jaw working, and her hand dug into the blankets underneath her as she bit words off one or two at a time. “So glad I can be your watchdog while you give the undead a soothing cuddle, B. When you said the Angel issues were still with you, I didn’t figure giving him a comfort screw for Christmas was on the menu, but I bet it really picked him up.”

Buffy recoiled as if Faith had punched her in the face. That would have been nicer, actually.

“You think we--” she stopped, the words clenched in her throat. Her vision was starting to blur but she didn’t care because she could still glare at Faith.  “The one and _only_ time we made love it turned him into a monster,” she hissed, words simmering under the pressure to be quiet. “He’s cursed. We don’t get to be together, ever. Making sure he’s in one piece with his soul intact is the only thing I can do. Knowing he’s out there somewhere is the best fucking thing I can have of him.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks. “So yeah, I cuddled the undead, and fuck you for trying to make me sorry for it.”

“He’s a fucking vampire, B. He kills people. He ripped your fucking heart out. How can you still...” Faith’s voice cracked, her eyes lingering on Buffy’s face, and her hand came away from the bed as if it was moved to wipe the tears away of its own accord. There was pain in those dark eyes now, pain that boiled over around the edges of her anger, and her voice dropped to a whisper that was almost as raw as Buffy’s own. “Jesus, B. Your mom practically tried to drown me in egg nog and Christmas carols so she wouldn’t think about you being out there. You blow all that off to prop up some guy, much less _Angel_ ....”

Seeing that much emotion from Faith made Buffy want to hold her, but she was still too busy with the being hurt thing. Possibly also the wanting to pummel Faith thing - she wasn’t quite sure on that. “You’re right!” The tears on her face made her fake a-ha expression that much more jarring. “That’s completely rational. Why didn’t I think of that before? I’ll stop caring right now.” She screwed up her face in a parody of concentration. “Mmm...nope, didn’t work.”  

Faith, startled into a sharp bark of laughter, bit down on her lip until she could get her voice under control. In the moment’s silence, their mingled breathing was a ragged scrape in the air of the room. “You gotta pick which people are important to care about, B. You can’t just care about everybody.”

And boy did _that_ take the righteous anger out of Buffy’s sails. She blinked away tears for a moment, then smiled painfully. “You’ll have to teach me how. I’ve tried but I still really suck at that.”

“You really, really do.” Faith smiled, and the tension in the air visibly melted and sheeted to the floor. With a little shift of her body and a whole lot of shift in attitude, the dark-haired girl made room for Buffy on the bed. “Whatever they gave the Grinch in that Doctor Seuss book, we gotta find you some of the opposite. Red kryptonite or somethin’.”

Grinning and gratefully sinking down onto the comforter, Buffy drew the tissue box into her lap and commenced de-snotting. When her face resembled a human more than it did a slime demon, she rested her head on Faith’s shoulder.

Almost immediately, she sat back up. “Right! Christmas!” In an astonishing show of perkiness, Buffy bounced over to her desk, plucked a what looked like a CD with a tumor wrapped in manically-smiling snowmen, and held it out to Faith like a small child with a macaroni picture. “Your present!” She sat on the edge of the bed almost vibrating in her eagerness.

“Damn, B, did you get the paper on extra special sale, or did the clerk just really hate you?” Faith put the jab in and smiled - back to normal, just Faith being Faith - then peeled open the paper with more care than Buffy would have expected. The silver chain necklace dropped out into her hand, caught a few inches off the bed, and she left the half-wrapped CD dangling from her fingers while she slowly let the chain trail out across her palm. Stroked it with her thumb. Looked up. Got a crooked smile on her face. “You know, I’m pretty sure that if either of us is gonna be wearing a chain collar it oughta be you, B. Unless you’re looking to renegotiate after that time with the ropes and ….”

Heat rose to Buffy’s face, which was totally a sign of her indignation and not a rush of pleasure at the memory. “It’s not...I didn’t...I just thought it was pretty. Thought you might like it.” She shrugged. “I think I still have the receipt...”

“No.” Faith’s fingers wrapped around the chain, gripping it like she was afraid someone might try to snatch it from her, and when she lifted her eyes to Buffy’s they were so emphatic it nearly took the blonde's breath out of her throat. “Don’t even think about it, B.”

Blinking at Faith’s intensity, Buffy smiled, hands in the air. “No more thinking.”

“Words to live by.” Faith slipped off the necklace she’d been wearing, clipping the chain on, then pulled the CD out and checked it offhandedly with a little quirk of a smile. “Garbage. All right. Not totally uncool.”

Leaning back, Buffy smiled. “They were playing “Wicked Ways” in the store. Made me think of you.” She waggled an eyebrow suggestively.

Faith’s smile came slowly, but it changed the whole line of her face when it did - drove off the uncertainty and tension that had been clinging behind the anger and frustration for the last couple of weeks and put a wolfish interest in her eyes that put shivers up Buffy’s spine. She dropped the CD, leaning forward on her hands until she was practically driving Buffy off the side of the bed with the weight of her proximity, and let her voice drop down a register into something that started somewhere a lot further south than her throat. “What kinda thinking are we talking about here, B? ‘Cause I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t the kind that suits Miss Prim and Proper to admit to.”

Something sparked in Buffy. For as long as she could remember she’d been tired, so very tired, of taking responsibility, of thinking, of doing what she was supposed to. Of bearing up under apocalypses and other assorted evil times. For the last twenty-four hours she’d been on an emotional roller-coaster.

She was done being jerked around by events. Tonight she was going to do the jerking.

Leaning up, Buffy sucked Faith’s earlobe between her lips for a moment. “I was thinking about you, naked, and how much fun I’m going to have getting you all,” she rolled the other girl onto her back, “Worked,” and she straddled Faith’s thighs, pressed her arms into the mattress, “Up.” Mouth pressed to the other Slayer’s pulse, Buffy smiled. Take that, events.

Faith made a sound of shock in her throat, hips jerking with the sudden rush of arousal that Buffy could feel pounding under her lips, and the way the taller girl had to fight to bury her gasp when Buffy’s hands tightened on her wrists was very, _very_ gratifying. Loudly and emphatically, at every available opportunity, Faith had invariably declared her preference for being on top. For being the one who made Buffy squirm, sob or scream with pleasure. With need.

Turnabout. Fair play. Something like that. She really didn’t remember the saying at the moment, and she couldn't have cared less. Buffy’s teeth scraped the skin just over the silver metal that was heating up under her breath.

Faith whimpered.

A rush of _heat want MINE_ surged through Buffy as she dragged her mouth over chain and collarbone. Breath coming faster, a sweet ache starting between her legs, the blond nuzzled the opening of Faith’s shirt, tongue pressed to the soft swell it concealed. The other girl shuddered under Buffy’s touch, gasping.

Sitting up, the Slayer grinned. “Mmm, this is _fun_ . I think I might do this more often.” Her head dipped again as she plundered Faith’s mouth with a searing kiss, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under her wrists. The kiss gave way to another, and another, and soon Buffy had to put a fair bit of her strength into hold Faith down where she wanted her. Bucking and writhing aside, it wasn’t too hard - she had leverage, position, and a fair advantage in coordination.

“This has to go,” Buffy breathed, tugging on Faith’s shirt. Eyes intense, she flicked the buttons open one by one. Faith’s eyes widened, pupils flaring open enough they seemed about to swallow the irises, and the sharp intake of her breath pushed her breasts up in an arch that screamed invitation. Buffy, never one to turn down a good deal when she saw one, lowered her lips to the pale skin and dark nipples with a fierceness that left quick-fading bruises and swollen tenderness everywhere her mouth lingered.

By the time she was anything close to ready to move on, Faith’s nails were digging visible scars into the headboard and her hips were jerking and snapping against Buffy’s like they’d taken on a life of their own. If the lingering bruises on Faith’s lips where the dark-haired girl’s teeth had dug in were any indication, the effort of holding in the sounds that vibrated under Buffy’s mouth every few seconds was going to start costing her blood any second now.

Blood on Faith’s lips, Buffy’s body hummed, didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Hands firmly planted on Faith’s waist, Buffy surged forward to capture those abused lips again, and Faith’s moan into her mouth was so violent that it seemed to resonate between them like a rung bell - both bodies shaking to the same shared vibration. Another instant later, she was kissing a trail from jugular to navel that left Faith gasping and burying cries in Buffy’s soft white pillows, stopping only when impeded by troublesome clothing.

Buffy pushed the respectable black skirt up around Faith’s waist in one smooth motion, leaving only the transparent layer of nylon between them, and earned another muffled cry in the process. For a moment, even in the rage of her desire, the Slayer paused, transfixed by the sight of her lover--who most of the time managed to be more macho than most of the football players Buffy knew--openly needing and almost naked. The heat of her breath drew a fresh arch, lifting Faith’s shoulders and hips from the bed, and the rigid tension of Faith’s body was such a contrast with the loose fall of her dark hair where her head had arched back against the pillows that it ought to have been painful.

The sound that came out of Faith, muffled as it was, had nothing to do with pain. What it did do was set off an answering growl in Buffy’s throat that was pure hunger.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered through the thunder of her own pulse. “I want every little bit of you.”

She stroked Faith’s thighs through the hose, alternating between gentle and kneading, and the effect was everything she could have hoped for: with each caress, the other girl shook, gasped, and made all manner of deliciously restrained noises. She thought she could hear pleading there, or at least a need so huge that it crushed any hint of strength with which Faith might have tried to fill that need herself. It was a hell of a lot stronger than the whiskey Faith had smuggled back to the hotel room the week before they’d fought over Angel and the glove, and Buffy didn’t even try to pretend she wasn’t drunk on it.

Faith’s hips bucked again, need twisting in her throat, and Buffy grabbed the waistband of the nylons; without even trying to remove them whole, she simply tore them open down the center. The scent of Faith’s arousal hit her and before she knew it her tongue was buried deep in the other girl.

Face buried in one of Buffy’s pillows to muffle her sounds, shaking with pleasure and joy, Faith screamed herself nearly hoarse before lack of breath and dazed, shuddering intoxication ground them both to a stop. After, Buffy lay with her cheek against Faith’s thigh. She listened to their breathing slow, waiting for enough oomph to move. Her hand drew lazy circles on the other girl’s hip.

Above her, Faith breathed out a laugh that was so soft and dazed that Buffy would not have believed - at least, not before the last hour or so - the dark-haired slayer was capable of it.

“What?”

Propping herself up on one elbow and staring down her body, Faith gave Buffy a lopsided smile that was all warm, drugged satisfaction.  “Fuck, B.”  The smile faded a little, drained away in a sudden tremble of vulnerable exhaustion, and she turned her face to the pillow as she whispered the word again. “Fuck.”

The satisfaction of a job well done drained away, replaced by concern. Pushing herself up onto shaky limbs, Buffy crawled up to curl herself around her lover. “Hey,” she said softly, a careful hand on Faith’s shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

The first fresh ripples of tension in Faith’s shoulder blade melted away, and she sank back against Buffy with a ragged little laugh that sounded like a few tears might be making a quick escape undetected. “When you came by the motel to ask me over... I was so busy being pissed with you, but I still wanted to say fuck it and throw myself at you. Tell you I wasn’t gonna let you leave ‘til we sorted things out.” She rolled onto her back, looking up into Buffy’s eyes, and the smile on her lips was so strange and sad that it threatened to sneak some tears out of Buffy too. “How fucking crazy is that, B?”

Dragging the comforter over them both, Buffy shook her head. “Not crazy,” she murmured. “I really hate us fighting. And not just because of the head trauma.”

“Guess we’ll just have to not fight then, huh?” Faith’s smile grew, shaking off some of its clouds, and she leaned up to press her lips against Buffy’s in a kiss that was as soft and lingering as it was claiming. “The Chosen Two, forever after. Save our ass kicking for everybody else. What do you think?”

Letting her arms settle into Faith’s curves, Buffy smiled. Later she’d realize that it was the only time she had ever heard Faith talking about what she wanted for the future. “Sounds like a plan. I bet we can come up with some awesome team slaying moves.”

“Bet your cute little ass.” Faith pressed her face into the soft gold of Buffy’s hair, closing her eyes, and breathed so softly the words almost vanished unheard. “You and me, B. Just you and me.”

Something a little like joy and a little like fear swelled in Buffy’s chest. It was a promise--no matter that neither of them said so--a promise that she desperately wanted to keep. She wanted to protect the beautiful, fragile thing growing between her and the other Slayer, whatever it was, even if her record with fragile things was not of the greatest. There was something in the aching way Faith whispered those words that made her want to hold on, to insist the dark-eyed girl who smiled when she was bleeding never get out of this bed except for patrol and maybe a silly movie sometimes.

Eventually, exhaustion drove the crazy loop of future-think out of her head, and she snuggled deeper into the blankets and her lover’s embrace. “Merry Christmas, Faith.”

“Merry Christmas, B.” Faith’s arms tightened just a little more, and even through the haze of sleep there was a fierce bright edge in her voice that etched itself into Buffy’s skin. Relief. Happiness. Something possessive and stark with hunger. Faith breathed the words again like a prayer. “Merry Christmas.”

Sleep stole them away before Buffy could worry any more about tomorrow.


End file.
